Page 64 of Wilds of Wonder
One of them hissed, and every single sprite turned their wide eyes, which took up nearly half their faces, on me. Behind them, the bone collector began climbing down from his cave opening.
“You miss your master, right?” I asked, the sprites slowly congregating around me. “Well, I’m a scholar. A historian. I’m trying to uncover truths about him, about his history. I want to understand what happened to Spirit Fire and all the spirits. I want to better understand the way they lived, the way they ruled.”
The sprites’ flames licked and leapt around their bodies. If I used my magic, I’d forfeit. The bone collector won our last game, running away with that diadem that I’d found on the lake. I did all the hard work, almost died, and he got the glory. The competitive side of me refused to let that happen again.
The bone collector fished a rope out of his satchel, making a loop at one end and lassoing it. He missed the first few times, but eventually, the rope landed around the tall column. Meanwhile, the sprites’ attention was all on me.
“You’d do well to turn around and go back where you came from,” one of the sprites said, her voice low and raspy, like smoke drifting through the air. Her bright fuchsia eyes flashed, promising danger if I didn’t listen.
By now, all of them had me surrounded, and I could barely see over the flames flickering from their little bodies. Together they looked like one massive ring of fire. Just over the blurring heat of the flames, I could see the bone collector swinging through the air and latching onto the rock.
Damnit. Time to play dirty. Just like he had at Halfstard Lake.
“I would, but I kind of want to see how this plays out.”
The fuchsia-eyed sprite stiffened. “How what plays out?”
The bone collector scaled the column, so close to reaching that book laying at the top.
“If he gets the book or not.” I gave an innocent shrug.
All the sprites whipped around at once as their gazes locked onto the bone collector.
“Don’t let him get the book!” a sprite yelled, and they all rushed forward.
“Thank you for that,” the bone collector called as he froze on the column, right near the top.
I smiled from underneath my scarf, and then backed up and took arunning leap through the air, landing on a shorter column that jutted up from the darkness. I landed on my feet, the force shoving up into my bones, and making me bite down on my tongue. Ow.
The sprites swarmed the bone collector right as he pulled himself to the top of the column and grabbed the book.
“Don’t come any closer,” he warned. “Or I’ll destroy it.”
He wouldn’t dare. He’d die before letting any harm come to such an important text. But they didn’t know that. The sprites froze, all of them at a standstill. The bone collector slipped a dagger from his boot and pointed it right at the center of the book.
I leapt to the next column, wavering on my feet before regaining my balance. One more to go. I reared back my arms and jumped again, crashing into the column and wrapping my arms around it. My muscles ached, already fatigued, but I was so close now.
The sprites closed in around the bone collector, but none of them moved to strike against him, his threat working nicely in his favor. Still, he had no escape plan, while one was forming in my mind.
I worked my way to the top of the column, boots and hands finding every crack and crevice they could lodge into. My arms and legs shook, and sweat drenched me, the scarf around my head and face sticking to my skin. I’d have a lot of explaining to do to my husband about my current state.
I wouldn’t think about that right now.
Focus on the mission. I was not Emory Growley. I was the white rabbit, and I would get that book.
“Set me on fire, and the book gets set on fire,” the bone collector was saying. “Push me and the book falls with me. Stab me, and I stab the book. Quite a conundrum.”
“You can’t stand here forever,” one of them hissed. “You’ll tire eventually, and you will hand over that book.”
Finally I reached the top, peeking over the column. The bone collector teetered there, his eyes flicking down to me. I gestured for him to throw me the book. He gave a slight shake of his head, and I widened my eyes meaningfully.
Yes, this was a game we both wanted to win, but we also wanted history to prevail. We both cared far too much about these objectsand preserving them, learning from them, to let our egos get in the way.
“Drop the book,”I mouthed, “and I’ll help you escape.”
My muscles quivered with exhaustion, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hang onto this thing.
His jaw locked. He closed his eyes, paused for what felt like the world’s longest minute, and let the book go with a heavy sigh. I snatched it from the air, then quickly flattened myself to the column as the sprites shrieked and dove headfirst into the darkness, both of us forgotten as they flew deeper and deeper, their shrill, panicked yells filling the air until they were finally far enough away for me to let out a breath.
